


How I Missed You, Amatus

by MacBeka



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Assassination attempts, Bath Sex, Dirty Talk, Fenris and Anders chase Hawke to Skyhold, Fluff, Gratuitous use of Tevene, Hawke approves, Implied Sub!Dorian, Inspired by Fanfiction, Inspired by TCRegan, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, Pierced Dorian, Possessive Fenris, Proposals, Protective Fenris, Reunion, Reunion Sex, Smut, Switching, dickwad Halward, ish, jealousy sex, references to past rape/abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4715084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MacBeka/pseuds/MacBeka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris had a lover in Tevinter. A certain Altus mage. When he and Anders chase Hawke to Skyhold, they are reunited, much to everyone's confusion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How I Missed You, Amatus

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kleineganz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kleineganz/gifts).



> This is a reworked fic of something that I took down minutes after uploading due to being accused of plagiarism. Inspired by TCRegan's series "Ascension of the Wolf". It is brilliant and a must-read. 
> 
> For Kleineganz, who asked about this after I deleted it, which made me carry on. 
> 
> The italics have all disappeared and I really can't be arsed to go through it on my tiny phone screen and fix it all >.> Maybe later 
> 
> Enjoy :)

Fenris was going to punch Garrett when they got to Skyhold. Not only had he left and saddled him with the mage, following him had them trekking through snow. In Redcliffe, Anders had insisted that he purchase some boots.

"I am not having Hawke blame me for the loss of your toes, fool elf," the mage had said, pushing him towards the village.

They had to be careful; it hadn't been that long since Kirkwall and word of Anders had spread, along with his description. Fenris was lucky that first and foremost, people saw him as just another knife-ear so he was able to slip through crowds. Before she'd left them at Highever, Isabela had also arranged to get him some make-up powder to cover his lyrium lines when they might draw too much attention.

He thought of the journey across the Waking Sea with the others on the ship Isabela had acquired. It still amused him to no end just how seasick Hawke had been ('Some of us have never lived on an island, Fenris!'). The gruff brutish warrior had been brought to his knees - literally - by the soft swaying of the waves. Danarius's primary estate had been on Seheron but his business in Minrathous, taking them across the Nocen Sea regularly; he was accustomed to sea travel.

Varric had stayed in Kirkwall - until being accosted by the Seeker - as had Aveline. Merrill had deigned to stay with Isabela, Maker knew why. Sebastian had been slain on the Gallows steps by Fenris's own hand. The man had hardly turned around with his promise of bringing an army down on Anders and those who aided him before Fenris had closed his fist around his heart and crushed it. He smiled and remembered the look on Anders's face.

"No one kills you but me, mage," he'd said, but even he'd heard the fondness in his own voice. He had been at their side ever since.

Fenris turned to look at the mage now. Anders was still thin, too thin, but the demon had settled down, convinced the mages' cause was over. Fenris was glad for that at least. Anders was alive, and happy. The fool mage had settled easily into life on the road with Fenris and Hawke and, even if Fenris had to go for a walk when he could hear the two of them... enjoying themselves, he had to admit that he had settled too.

"Fenris, look," Anders called, pointing ahead of them. "Skyhold."

The keep was a good half day's walk yet, maybe a day if the snow kept piling like this, but they'd be there soon. He kept a hand ready to grab for his sword; he had no doubt there would be Templars calling for Anders's arrest, death or Tranquility. Even if they no longer called themselves Templars, their prejudices and internal purposes were the same.

Fenris couldn't say that he no longer hated mages; he did, with a burning heat, but he had been reminded that there were those who weren't as bad. They were dangerous, as all other mages, but they did not seek power. Fenris had learned to ignore the less savoury aspects of Anders's magic and Fade use but he knew that the mage, no matter what he'd done in Kirkwall at the behest of the demon, was a good man who only wanted to help.

As Skyhold approached, Fenris found himself drawing closer to Anders with every step, hand twitching closer to his sword with every noise.

"Halt!" a guard called from the gate before approaching them. "Name and purpose?"

"We come to help, is that not enough?" Anders asked.

Fenris cursed internally, glaring briefly at the mage. Anders was so appalling at not drawing attention to himself, it was embarrassing. He saw the narrowing of the guard's eye and then the widening of recognition.

"Guards!" he shouted loudly, reaching for his sword.

His wrist was in Fenris's grasp before his hand could even close around the handle. He lit the lyrium brands and moved closer intimidatingly. "Touch him, you die," he growled.

Anders had moved behind him subconsciously, staff in hand and a fireball at the ready.

"Stand down," an all-too familiar voice ordered. The soldier moved away as soon as Fenris released him and Cullen approached, feathered mantle cutting an alarming figure. "Fenris? What brings you here?"

"We've come for Hawke," he explained, relaxing slightly. Cullen had let them go in Kirkwall, surely he wouldn't demand their incarceration now.

"'We'? Oh. Anders."

"Hello," Anders greeted tersely.

"This is a bad place for you, Anders. There are many here who used to be Templars, and more still who saw what you did. It's not safe," Cullen said.

"While he is with me, he is safe. Take us to Hawke, Cullen. Please," Fenris tacked on.

Cullen sighed, rubbing the back of his neck in a familiar nervous gesture. "Very well. He is with the Inquisitor."

Fenris took Anders's elbow in hand and all but dragged him after the old Knight-Captain. He pulled him close and hissed in his ear, "Next time, mage, remember that you are a fugitive criminal to many and saviour to few."

Anders nodded silently but Fenris didn't release him, following Cullen. He glanced around quickly, falling back on his bodyguard training. A lot of people were staring at them, whispering behind their hands. Fenris could at once tell which guards had been Templars before this; their shoulders were squared and they looked around in slow sweeps, alert for any sign of magic. Plus, they had their hands on their swords and watched them closely, jaws tense with anger. Cullen led them into another courtyard and up a set of steps. Fenris didn't bother taking the time to absorb their surroundings, focusing instead on making sure an arrow didn't end up between the mage's eyes.

Cullen strode through the open doors into a vast hall in slight disrepair. He took them through a door and into another room. Fenris didn't bother looking at the two other people in the room, focusing instead on Garrett Hawke, whose eyes went wide at the sight of them. Just as a grin began to grow on the man's face, Fenris punched him. There were shouts of surprise all around but he grasped Hawke's tunic, pulling him down so they were face to face.

"Next time you decide to leave in a hurry," he growled, "make your note legible so the mage doesn't have to read it to me like a child."

Fenris pushed slightly and stepped back, scowling. He watched as Anders pushed past him to throw himself into the man's arms. He huffed a sigh, suddenly reminded that he hated when the two of them decided to be publicly affectionate. The door behind them opened again quickly, a mage with a staff at the ready. The mage--

"Dorian?" Fenris asked, unable to hide his own surprise, grateful that no one could hear the skip in his heartbeat or see the hope in his eyes.

The mage stopped, taken aback. "Fenris? What in the Maker's name are you doing here? They... I thought you were dead. "

"We came for Hawke. Should you not have the Magisterium eating out of your palm by now?" It took everything in him not to throw himself at the mage in front of him.

Dorian Pavus chuckled and replaced his staff on his back. "Oh, you know me, the eternal pariah. It's a long story."

"You two know each other?" Anders asked incredulously, turning from healing the bruise already marking Hawke's jaw.

"Allow me to introduce myself to such a handsome fellow mage," Dorian flirted, winking when Anders blushed. "Dorian Pavus, most recently of Minrathous."

Anders stepped forward with rage in his eyes and the blush still on his face but Fenris stopped him, grabbing his arm before he could start casting in the now somewhat cramped room. Anders turned to look at him with disbelief in his eyes.

"We didn't come all this way just so you could be dragged back to Tevinter by another Magister," Anders hissed.

"Altus," Fenris and Dorian corrected simultaneously.

"Dorian is an Altus, as he likes to remind us constantly," an elven woman said, crossing her arms and smiling slightly.

"Oh, my dearest, when you poor Southerners remember, I won't have to say it again, but I know how the cold does fry your brain," Dorian cooed sympathetically, eyes lit with amusement.

"You must be Anders," the woman said, reaching out to shake the mage's hand. "And Fenris. I'm Lavellan."

"My apologies, Inquisitor, had I known they would cause such trouble, I--" Cullen started but Lavellan waved him off.

"Hush, love," she chuckled, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

Fenris blinked in surprise. Cullen was with an elf? Cullen blushed but didn't try to defend himself; he found no shame in it. He found himself frowning.

"Strange, isn't it?" Dorian asked, beside him suddenly, gesturing to Cullen and Lavellan, but his eyes also drifting to Hawke and Anders, voice tinged with a heart wrenching melancholy. "So very different down south. I hear you killed Danarius. I haven't heard anything of Hadriana. "

"She's dead," he said absent-mindedly.

"I did think so. I thought about sending you some chocolates and a nice bottle of proper Tevinter wine in thanks but thought it might draw you some unwanted attention."

Fenris chuckled softly, ignoring the absurd look Anders and Hawke were sending him. "My thanks."

"So how do you two know each other, Dorian?" the Inquisitor asked, sitting down in an armchair.

"I was the slave of a Magister," Fenris told her.

"Is he the one who put those lines on you?" Her curiosity leaked into the voice she was trying to keep even.

"Lyrium, branded into my skin."

"Danarius - Fenris's former master - and my father had dealings together," Dorian said. "Before the blood magic."

"Blood magic? He bled you?" Fenris asked, alarmed, eyes flicking to Dorian's wrists, confusingly free of scars.

"It's a long story, I'll tell you later."

Fenris frowned but said nothing, looking to Hawke instead. "My apologies for striking you."

"I'm not going to lie, I deserved it," Garrett admitted. "Thank you for bringing Anders."

"The mage is as inconspicuous as a tainted mabari, he can hardly be left alone."

Dorian laughed, taking hold of his wrist. "Come. The dog-lord has his amatus back, allow me to remind you how civilised people live."

Fenris sent Dorian an exasperated look but allowed himself to be led from the room, sparing a final glance back at Anders and Hawke's confused and protective expressions. Dorian took him down stairs and around corners until they found themselves in the fully-stocked wine cellars. Fenris opened his mouth to make a remark about the mage's fondness for wine but found himself wrapped tightly in muscled arms, a moustache tickling his neck where Dorian had buried his face.

"I thought you dead," the mage whispered, voice breaking. "I thought..."

"Hush," Fenris said softly, holding the man in his arms. "I couldn't contact you after his death for fear of the Magisterium needing justice, though I kept tabs on you when I could."

"I know, amatus..."

"Tell me, what is this of blood magic?"

Dorian sighed and was easy to manipulate into sitting on a blanket spread over the cold stone floor. Fenris was pulled until he found himself straddling Dorian's lap, toned arms wrapped around his waist.

"I rejected another marriage proposal and Father decided that he'd... had enough of my particular proclivities and they had to come to a stop. He tried to... change me, make me acceptable."

"Maker... Perhaps I should have written so you could join me on the run," Fenris said, trying to make light of it to comfort Dorian.

Dorian merely chuckled, a hand coming up to stroke the lyrium lines on his throat. "It is a simpler thing to be a disappointment far away from Tevinter."

"Well, you are never a disappointment to me," he reassured, curling the man's hair around his fingers, messing up the neatly groomed strands. Dorian didn't complain, leaning into the touch.

"Oh, I have missed you," the mage sighed, resting their foreheads together. "Tell me of your life since Tevinter."

Fenris told him about his life on the run, about Hawke and their adventures, the slaying of slavers and blood mages, how he'd fought for the mages at the Gallows. Dorian listened quietly, chuckling occasionally, his fingers tracing lyrium lines everywhere he could reach.

"I do wish you'd allowed me to buy you from Danarius and set you free," he murmured.

"Doing so would have both you and Alexius falling into poverty, such was the investment in me. Besides that, Danarius would never have allowed it."

"Oh, but how I would have flaunted you. We could sit in the garden and play chess, I'd teach you Orlesian and you would stop me from embarrassing myself too badly. We would have been the subject of gossip in every Magister's mouth. Maybe even the Archon himself, hm?"

"Dorian..." Fenris sighed, preparing the arguments as to why that never would have been a possibility.

"I know. Allow me my fantasies, amatus. Maker knows you have been the subject of them for as long as I have known you."

Fenris chuckled, trailing his fingers over Dorian's smirk. "Oh? Do tell."

"Well, my favourite one goes something like this," the mage purred.

He lifted Fenris's arse slightly and lay him down on the blanket. Fenris didn't mind the cold permeating the fabric; they had done this in more inconvenient places. Dorian draped himself over the elf, kissing softly at his neck, licking down the lyrium brands on his throat.

"As much as I admire you in this armour, I find myself inclined to get you naked."

Armour was shed, leather and metal thudding to the floor beside them. Dorian's nimble fingers went to the clasps and buckles of his own. Fenris ran his hand up the muscled arm that was revealed when the half-sleeve was removed. It was only a matter of minutes before they were both naked and Dorian was lowering himself onto the elf again, pressing their lips together. Fenris hummed happily at the taste of him, gripping the man's back.

"I want to ride you," Dorian groaned, bringing their hard cocks together.

Fenris moaned softly and nodded, gasping in surprise at the pull of Dorian's magic on his brands as he summoned some grease into his hand, pushing two fingers into himself quickly. Fenris turned his attentions to the mage's dark skin, kissing happily along the width of his shoulders, biting where his armour would hide it out of habit. Dorian moved quickly, hissing when he pushed a third finger in a bit too soon but didn't stop.

"Oh, amatus," the mage moaned, sitting up to straddle his narrow hips.

"So desperate, aren't you, Dorian?" He remembered just how much the mage loved his voice and the filthy things he could say. "Tell me, Lord Pavus, have you been bending over for any cock you could find?"

"Yes," Dorian mewled, cock twitching, shame tingeing his tone.

Dorian stroked the elf's cock twice, smearing the remaining grease on him before he pushed down onto him with a hissed moan. Fenris's hands went to the mage's hips, stopping him easily. Chuckling when Dorian whined in confusion, he carded his fingers through dark hair, setting it back in place.

"Slowly," he urged, painfully aware of how many times Dorian had hurt himself because he was too impatient in his preparation.

A huff escaped from full lips, making him smile slightly. Dorian sank down slowly but it wasn't too long before they were pressed together. This time there was no pain in the mage's moans, mouth hanging open with pleasure. Fenris smiled, fingers tugging at the small gold hoops hanging from Dorian's dark nipples and watched him shiver.

"These are new," he remarked, breath catching in a groan when Dorian lifted himself and sank back down.

"Somewhat of an impulse."

"Gold, as ever, is your colour."

Dorian chuckled, leaning back slightly to rest his hands on Fenris's strong thighs. The roll of the mage's pelvis was the image of sin, the look on his face the epitome of temptation. Fenris moaned, thrusting up to meet Dorian's drop. The mage gasped in surprise and moaned lowly.

"Come now," Dorian purred, the words dripping from his lips like fresh honey, "surely you can do better than that."

Fenris turned them quickly until he was kneeling between Dorian's spread legs, the mage blinking in shock. Fenris leaned down, curling the tip of his tongue into one of the nipple rings, eyes latched onto the mage's. Dorian groaned, though it was cut off with a surprised shout when Fenris thrust into him hard.

"Oh, fasta vass, please, amatus," the mage moaned, arching his spine.

The elf didn't answer, focusing instead on reducing him to a mewling mess. There was always a thrill of delight when such a powerful Altus couldn't find words except to beg for more. He moved his lips to Dorian's other nipple, lavishing it with the same treatment. His hands gripped the backs of caramel thighs, pulling them over his hips, allowing him to thrust in hard. Fenris pulled back slowly, the drag of Dorian's heat on his cock torturous, before shoving in, hard and fast. Dorian was shaking already, hands trembling as he panted.

"Is this what you wanted, Dorian?" Fenris growled against his chest, looking up at him.

"Yes," he whined, hand coming up to rest on his stomach, eyes boring into Fenris imploringly.

Fenris chuckled. "Go ahead," he said, rewarding him with a particularly hard thrust.

Dorian moaned gratefully, deft fingers wrapping around his cock and stroking quickly. The mage was whimpering with desire, muscles clenching and shuddering. Fenris gritted his teeth in an effort not to come first, determined to wring everything he could out of the mage. All it took was a tug on his nipple with sharp teeth and Dorian was all but screaming his release, the sound echoing around the stone cellar. Fenris groaned at the tightness around his length and gave in, coming with a moan.

The air was heavy between them with the years of yearning for the presence of the other. They hadn't been together like this for almost a decade, and dirty letters in Tevene were a poor replacement. When Fenris said as much, Dorian hummed in agreement. He watched the mage gasp and whine softly when he pulled out to lie down beside him. Dorian sighed happily, pulling Fenris into his arms so he could bury his face in white hair while he wiped his stomach clean with a corner of the blanket they were lying on.

"We shouldn't linger here," Fenris reminded him, though getting up was the last thing he wanted.

"Just a few minutes won't hurt. I missed you."

"I missed you too, amatus," he murmured, kissing warm skin.

"I don't suppose there's any way I could convince you to stay in my chambers while you're here?" Dorian asked, fingers stroking along the lyrium on his back and arm.

"You would tell others about us?"

"Not unless you wished otherwise," the mage promised with a kiss to his forehead.

"I will... think about it. I will come to you though. Anders and Hawke do not know about this," he confessed.

"Have you been telling them how you hate evil Tevinter Magisters and such like?" Dorian chuckled.

"Among other things. Speaking of Magisters, how is Alexius?"

Dorian's eyes lit up at the mention of his mentor. "He's here actually, as is Felix. We should go and see them when we get up. They would be overjoyed to see you."

"They're both here?"

"They helped to deal with some Venatori in Redcliffe and have promised their services to the Inquisition. Felix is convinced that there's something going on between Grand Enchanter Fiona and Alexius, but I don't see it."

Fenris hummed in response, unable to stop the bubble of excitement in his chest at the idea of seeing Felix and Alexius again. The Magister and his son had always been kind to him, making sure he was being fed enough, had enough water, sleep. So many years ago that he could hardly remember, Danarius had loaned him to Alexius in order to spy on the Magister's affairs (only after killing off an unnecessary number of his slaves and asking at a party to ensure the offer wasn't refused). It was the first time he'd ever really met Alexius and his family but the man had told Fenris he knew his purpose here and had treated him no differently than his own slaves: as well as was appropriate. Alexius had always made sure that all of his slaves were well-fed, properly clothed and comfortable in their quarters, always giving them coin as a reward for a 'job well done' because he didn't like the idea of having slaves but it was necessary for his position. The slaves were never punished like Fenris was; with a whip, hand, anything that Danarius could reach.

Dorian laughed at the sound of Fenris's rumbling stomach but sat up, reaching for their clothes. Fenris dressed in silence, admiring the view of Dorian's bare back before it was covered up.

"Come, let's get some food in you before we seek them out," Dorian said with a smile, tugging him to his feet and pressing a kiss to his lips before leading him back upstairs.

*****************************************************************************************************

The trip to the kitchen was full of inane chatter from Dorian, the mage's arm draped casually - but protectively, possessively - over Fenris's shoulder. Fenris rolled his eyes but said nothing against the action; he had missed this simple touch and found a thrill in the way they didn't have to hide, act as noble and slave under the eye of watchful Magisters.

 

When they entered the kitchens, Anders and Hawke were sat side by side as Anders ate. Hawke's fingers carded through his tangled hair as best as they could, looking as though he didn't quite believe he was there.

"Oh, Fenris, you simply must introduce me to your handsome friends," Dorian said, taking a seat opposite the two men.

Fenris rolled his eyes again but sat beside him, quietly thanking the servant who set a plate of bread, meat and cheese in front of him. It was more substantial that most of the things he and Anders had eaten on the road.

"This is Anders and Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall. I'm surprised you haven't met Hawke before now," Fenris remarked, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You know me, I spend most of my time in the library. There is this wonderful tome you must read, about slave uprisings in the early years of the Imperium. Maker knows how much of it is true but it was interesting nonetheless. Remind me to find it for you," Dorian babbled, an excited grin on his face.

"Fenris couldn't read before I met him," Hawke said gruffly.

"Yes he could, I taught him," Dorian answered defensively.

"Dorian taught me to read and write in Tevene," Fenris explained at Hawke's confused frown.

"The language of the civilised, my dear elf."

"So you're from Tevinter?" Anders asked to try and steer the conversation to somewhat less rocky paths.

"Born and bred," Dorian said proudly. "And you are a Southern mage?"

"I was born in the Anderfels, but yes."

"I imagine you were trapped in one of those ghastly Circles before that brilliant fellow blew up the Chantry in Kirkwall. Did you know him?"

Anders coughed embarrassedly, blushing. "That, uh... That was me."

Dorian's eyes went wide and he laughed. "Truly? Then I must congratulate you. I can't imagine many were happy about it."

"One of our friends threatened to bring an army to kill Anders," Hawke said, slightly more relaxed with Dorian's presence.

"And where is this army, pray tell?"

"Fenris killed the man as soon as he turned his back."

Dorian gasped dramatically, holding a hand to his chest as if hurt. "You have replaced me with a less charming but still considerably handsome mage?" he asked Fenris. Fenris couldn't help the twitch of his mouth into a smile as he elbowed Dorian. The mage simply chuckled. "Of course you wouldn't, I'm far too brilliant to be replaced."

Hawke opened his mouth with a frown but was cut off by the sounds of clattering pans and shouting through a passageway. The noise was getting closer.

"Where is he!" a familiar voice shouted and Fenris fought the urge to laugh.

Alexius appeared in the doorway and marched over, pulling Fenris up off the bench he was sat on. Hawke and Anders jumped to their feet with a shout, blade and mana in hand. They stopped in surprise when Alexius put his arms around Fenris, drawing him into a hug.

"Father, I'm sure Fenris doesn't need to be smothered," Felix's voice said close by.

"Hush, Felix," Alexius said simply, stepping back to look Fenris over, cupping his face. "You are well?"

"I am," Fenris smiled.

"We feared the worst. The least you could have done was send a letter to keep us from worrying," the Magister scolded gently.

"I killed Danarius and Hadriana; I couldn't be sure the Archon wouldn't demand punishment for their deaths, and it wasn't just me who would have been held accountable," Fenris explained.

"Ah yes, your Southern friends." Alexius released him and addressed Hawke and Anders, ignoring the dagger and flame. "I must thank you for taking care of Fenris while we could not."

They backed down, still frowning. Hawke spoke first.

"It was no trouble. I have no patience for slavers," he said pointedly, eyes narrowing.

Alexius ignored the slight and scoffed. "Oh, neither do I. But when you try to free them, the Magisterium screams 'Weakness!' and I... made a promise to my wife before she passed."

Felix pulled his father aside and embraced Fenris, squeezing him tightly for a moment. "We missed you. Dorian was pining, it was very embarrassing."

"I was not!" Dorian interrupted, crossing his arms.

Felix laughed and stepped back. "Tell me, how did Danarius die?"

"Without a throat," Fenris smirked.

"Venhedis, really? I owe Dominic five sovereigns," Felix grumbled.

Fenris laughed. "When have you ever won a bet with Dominic?"

"He's right," Dorian said.

Alexius took Felix's arm. "Let's leave them to their meal, Felix. Fenris, I expect you to dine with us for lunch tomorrow, I won't have any arguments."

Fenris nodded, smiling as the two men left. He sat down when urged by Dorian's hand closing around his wrist.

"What just happened?" Anders asked, sitting slowly, joined by Hawke a moment after.

"Alexius was my mentor and patron after I trained in Qarinus and a key factor in engineering Fenris's escape," Dorian explained.

Fenris ducked his head; he'd never truly explained the manner of his escape.

"'Engineering his escape'?" Hawke asked, raising an eyebrow at Fenris.

"It never seemed important," he mumbled. "Dorian and Alexius arranged the Qunari attack, convinced the Fog Warriors to hold me until they could get there. Danarius arrived first and... it felt inevitable, that their plan had failed so I killed them. Danarius was injured, I ran."

"You left a letter in Alam for when we got there though," Dorian said, resting a hand on his thigh underneath the table. The weight was comforting, reassuring.

"You hate mages, but--" Anders started.

"Alexius isn't a mage, it's different. He is a mage, but..." Fenris searched for words. "You say you hate Templars, but you and Thrask got on well, he helped free mages. It's easier to hate a group than it is to hate all of the individual people."

"You sound like Bull," Dorian chuckled.

"Who?"

"He's Qunari." When Fenris tensed, Dorian leaned against him and squeezed his thigh. "Not to worry, amatus, I won't let the barbarian harm you. You can smell him before he even gets close, Maker knows why the Ben-Hassrath thought he'd make a good spy."

Fenris chuckled, not noticing the slip of the endearment. "You have made friends with the Inquisition?"

"Surprisingly, yes. Lavellan is a fascinating woman, even indulged me in my thirst for knowledge of the Dalish. Bull is... infuriating. Solas has a brilliant mind, perhaps even rivalling mind but don't tell him I said so. Cullen and I play chess once a week. Everything is much brighter with you here though," Dorian teased with a grin and a look in his eye that said he wasn't completely joking.

"Only because I glow," Fenris grinned, pressing his thigh, hip to knee, against Dorian's.

"Ah, but a most beautiful glow it is." Dorian chuckled. "Eat. Perhaps your friends would like to join us on a tour of the hold?"

"Hawke said he'd show me later," Anders said with an apologetic smile.

"You will have your amatus then, and I shall have mine," Dorian said simply, mouth clearly not consulting his brain before it spoke.

Fenris froze beside him, lyrium flickering in his skin at the sudden tension in his muscles. He didn't dare look up at Hawke or Anders, didn't want to look at Dorian, so instead he kept his eyes on his near-empty plate.

"Oh..." Dorian trailed awkwardly. "My apologies."

"Sparkler, are you riling up my friends?" a deep chuckle said from the doorway.

Varric came in, eyes landing briefly on Fenris. Clearly he'd heard Dorian. Fenris felt a glimmer of excitement at seeing Varric again after so long but it was quickly drowned in the worry of whether or not he would address the sudden bronto in the room.

"When have I been known to rile anyone, Varric?" Dorian scoffed.

"Just this morning Cassandra was raining curses down on your name." Dorian waved it away dismissively, making Varric chuckle. "You and Fenris look comfortable there."

Comfortable was anything but what they were; Dorian was shifting awkwardly in embarrassment while Fenris was so tense a silverite sword would have snapped over his arm.

"They do," Hawke mused curiously.

Fenris could feel eyes boring holes in him so he stood abruptly, making Dorian jump beside him.

"I'm going to talk to Cullen about his Templars," he said before leaving as quickly as his legs could take him.

Thankfully - for the mage's sake - Dorian didn't follow. Fenris exited the kitchens, shutting the door behind him quickly. He looked around where he'd found himself. Stables and a barn nearby, a sweeping staircase taking him down into the courtyard. He followed the steps until he saw the main gate Cullen had brought them through. He headed for it, sure there would be a guard he could speak to about the Commander's location.

"Anger, worry, picking him apart like crows at carrion," a faint voice said, too close but also too far away. "What will they think? Liar? But he's happy, why would they deny him? His master is dead, he's free now."

Fenris snarled in sudden anger, lighting the lyrium to strike at whoever was talking about him. But-- He could see no one.

"Bright, like home, like something beautiful. He likes to touch them, follow them all the way down with fingers, lips, cursing the Magister's name with every breath but worshipping with every touch."

"Enough!" Fenris snapped, making some merchant jump in surprise. "Show yourself, demon."

A boy stepped from a nearby bush, his large hat hiding most of his face but something about him made Fenris uneasy, the same way he felt whenever Anders's demon came to the fore.

"What are you? How do you know those things?" he growled, hand twitching towards his sword.

"I'm a person, just like you. My name is Cole. I help people; I stop the hurt. But there's so much hurt in you, I don't know how to make it go away."

"Leave me alone, demon."

"I'm not a demon!" he insisted, taking a step forward. "I just want to help."

"Then help someone else!"

Fenris turned and walked away quickly, not quite fast enough to be called running but near enough. Whatever that... thing was, he was going to do his utmost to avoid it. Having something pick through his mind, his memories, was disturbing and unnatural. He got directions to Cullen's office from what seemed to be a new recruit.

"Where is Cullen?" he demanded, still bristling and somewhat glowing after his encounter with the demon.

The recruit yelped in surprise and dropped his sword. "The Commander is... He's on the ramparts, u-up there," the man stuttered, pointing to a tower.

Fenris nodded his thanks and headed for it. He followed the directions from the recruit, throwing open the door in his lingering anger. Cullen was on his feet within a second, sword in hand.

"Fenris?" Cullen asked, blinking in confusion. He put his sword back, leaning it against his desk within easy reach. "What's wrong?"

"Will your Templars harm Anders?"

"They're not--"

"They were Templars. Many came with you from Kirkwall; do they seek to harm Anders?"

"I don't..." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I cannot speak for all of them. They saw how willing he was to die for it, so maybe they understand? Elthina was well-liked; her death by his hand is not forgotten."

Fenris huffed a sigh, pursing his lips. "No."

"We will protect him. The Inquisitor admires him greatly and no one will touch him while she's around."

He nodded reluctantly. That was the best he would get for now. "Thank you."

"Oh, I meant to ask, would you be willing to help train our soldiers? With the Venatori from Tevinter we don't know what kind of soldiers or weapons they have."

"You think they managed to create more lyrium slaves? It's possible, I suppose. Highly improbable, but possible."

"Anything you can tell us about the ritual or the Magisters would be of great use."

"I remember very little about the ritual itself. Any memories I do have are doused in too much pain to be of use. I know that Danarius and his friends tried to replicate it with others but they all died before it was even completed."

"What enabled you to survive?" Cullen asked with a curious frown.

Fenris just shrugged. "I don't know. As for the Magisters, much as changed since I left the Imperium. The Magisterial seats change hands constantly so Dorian would be of more use there."

"You know Dorian?"

"Yes, we were... acquainted in Tevinter through business between his father and Danarius. I will train with your recruits if you wish, but know that it won't be easy for them. I was worth far more than the lyrium in my skin."

Cullen smiled slightly and nodded. "I would expect nothing else. Cassandra is with some of them now, if you'd like to work out your... frustrations. I'll take you to her."

Fenris nodded his thanks and stepped aside to allow Cullen to lead him back along the ramparts and down the steps he'd come up. In another courtyard - smaller, with patchy grass and puddles - a tall woman was shouting at some more experienced soldiers with a strong Nevarran accent. He studied her quickly, eyes flitting over her features. Straight nose, dark hair, the innate but subtle air of nobility: a Pentaghast.

"Cassandra," Cullen called to draw her attention. She ordered them to carry on with their drills before she walked over.

"Commander," she greeted, looking at Fenris curiously.

"I'd like to introduce you to Fenris, a companion of Hawke's. Fenris, this is Cassandra--"

"Pentaghast," he interrupted.

Cassandra blinked in surprise. "How did you know that?"

The explanation of his findings would have taken too long. Instead, he said, "My former master had dealings with Vestalus."

"Oh," she said lamely.

Her eyes drew to his throat and arms, looking over the lyrium brands. He ignored her gaze and she didn't ask, looking instead to Cullen for an explanation as to their visit.

"Fenris is willing to train with the soldiers. He is very capable in any manner of combat and I think it will help them improve."

"Of course," Cassandra said with a nod, gesturing towards the soldiers, who were slacking in their drills to look over at the three of them curiously.

Cullen clapped him on the shoulder and said a quiet goodbye before he walked away, heading back to his office. Fenris followed the woman back to the soldiers, standing silently under their scrutiny. He saw a few of them chuckle to themselves and nudge the man next to him to mutter something with a smirk. No doubt about how he was an elf.

"We were going to do some hand-to-hand sparring today, if you would like to join us," Cassandra told him.

He simply nodded, lifting his sword easily with one hand, leaning it against the wall. His clawed gauntlets trailed along the pommel briefly as he remembered the day Hawke had given it to him. A Blade of Mercy. It was a wonderfully ironic statement, considering how Danarius had coveted them. He turned back to the group, unstrapping his gauntlets and dropping them beside his sword; they would cause too much damage for simple sparring with how sharp they were.

"Aslin, you're up first," Cassandra said.

Fenris took a moment to look Aslin over. He was young, but had clearly seen battle before. He was lean, slim, not muscled like most of his contemporaries. Cassandra clearly thought he wouldn't be much use. He managed to keep a smirk off his face as he stepped forward to face his opponent. Aslin leaned to the left slightly - a misshapen pelvis? - and his arm was crooked from where it had been broken before. Already, Fenris had his movements planned out.

Cassandra blew a whistle and Aslin stepped forward, bringing his fists up. Fenris rolled his eyes and stood still, waiting for the man to get close enough. Aslin looked cocky already, lunging forward with a punch aimed for his jaw. Fenris grabbed his wrist and spun him to hold his arm behind his back. He kicked the man's feet out from under him and pushed him into the ground with one hand around his wrist.

"Yield!" Aslin yelled. "I yield!"

Fenris released him immediately and stood. Cassandra gave a surprised laugh as she leaned against the wall.

"You were just lucky, elf," Aslin grumbled.

Fenris just raised an eyebrow and allowed himself to smirk devilishly. The soldier looked slightly shaken at that but he walked away as Cassandra called forward the next, and so it went. Every match had a stronger opponent, but they were all overconfident in themselves; he was simply an elf, of course he couldn't beat them. Fenris won easily every time. They all left themselves too open in their arrogance, gave him too many opportunities to use his smaller stature and greater speed to his advantage.

With every cry of surrender, more people drew closer to see what was going on. He could see Cullen stood beside the Inquisitor on the steps that led into the main hall, and Dorian stood beside Varric, Hawke and Anders. He met Dorian's eyes briefly and returned the small smile before he focused on his next rival.

This man was all thick muscle and broad shoulders, skin dark from work under the sun and marked with scars from sword and arrows, a burn from a lick of conjured flame across the back of his upper arm. He was more guarded, careful, weak spots closed off. Fenris would undoubtedly have to fall back on the lyrium in this fight. He prepared himself for the brief wave of nausea that came with lighting them fully.

Cabrol, as Cassandra had called him, didn't raise his fists immediately, watching him for a few moments instead. Fenris nodded his respects to an obvious veteran, but he wanted to get this done as quickly as possible. He wanted to talk to Dorian. He remained still until Cabrol was driven to lash out at him by the goading of his friends. Fenris lit his brands and phased through him, closing his hand around the man's heart, careful to move forward when Cabrol fell to his knees with a gasp. The crowd had fallen silent in shock, muttering quietly when he phased again to remove his hand, flicking a few drops of blood off his flesh. Cabrol took a few gasping breaths before he stood and turned.

Fenris blinked in surprise when the man clasped his forearm in a warrior's handshake. Cabrol nodded deeply before he stepped away and went to rejoin the others, seemingly oblivious to their teasing, no matter how disturbed and surprised they obviously were. Fenris turned to see Dorian walking quickly towards him (the Altus would never have run unless a wolf was chasing him).

"Fenris--" the mage said, stopping just in front of him.

He couldn't help his smile as he wrapped his hand around the back of the mage's neck to pull him forward, resting their foreheads together. Dorian's tense form relaxed immediately and he let out a low sigh.

"I'm sorry," Dorian murmured, closing his eyes.

"They deserve to know. All is well," Fenris promised, pulling away.

Dorian smiled sweetly, blushing softly under his caramel skin. "You need a bath, amatus."

Fenris laughed, shaking his head slightly. "Then lead the way."

"You can use my private chambers because the ones installed under the keep are freezing. It will do your beautiful complexion no good to bathe in cold water."

He didn't argue as he picked up his gauntlets and sword, instead allowing the mage to lace their fingers together with a hesitant smile and lead him away. Hawke and Anders could wait for a little while longer at least. He had missed his mage.

Ignoring the blatant stares and poorly disguised sneers, Dorian pulled him quickly through twists and turns until he was pushing open a simple wooden door into the lavish chambers that must have belonged to him. Fenris looked around briefly. They were nothing like what Dorian was used to but it was better than a pallet and a lumpy pillow. He could imagine the complaints everyone had received before they bestowed this room upon him.

"See? There is plenty of room for you as well," Dorian said quietly, pulling him closer.

Fenris reached out to set his things on the chest at the end of the bed before he reached up to cup Dorian's cheeks and press a soft kiss to his lips.

"May I take you tonight, amatus?" Dorian whispered softly against his mouth.

"Yes," Fenris breathed. He had ached for years for Dorian's gentle touch. "Yes."

Dorian smiled and kissed him again, fingers going to buckles and setting armour on the floor carefully. Once Fenris was bare, Dorian moved to the large bath, kneeling down beside it to turn the taps and heat the water as it poured, the magic pulling on his lyrium brands. Fenris stood beside him, carding the tips of his fingers through dark hair.

The mage stood when the tub was full, urging Fenris to get in with a hand on his back. The heat of the water was too inviting to deny as he climbed in, relaxing with a sigh. Dorian returned, small vial in hand. When he opened the small glass bottle, Fenris relaxed further, the scents of Dorian's favourite bath oils caressing him.

"Will you not join me?" Fenris asked, catching Dorian's fingers as they stirred the oils into the water, bringing his hand to his lips.

"In a moment. I have something for you," he answered cryptically as he stood, walking to the vanity.

Dorian opened one of the drawers, which was no doubt neatly organised with its contents. The mage returned after a moment, hand clasped around something. He knelt down again, opening his fist. Fenris was stunned to silence. Dorian's ring was sat against tan flesh. It was as beautiful as it had been the first time he'd seen it, the gold inlaid with black onyx. Simple, masculine. It brought back memories that he'd tried to bury for so long.

"I kept it," Dorian said softly. "Even after... After I thought you dead. It was all I had. The last time we were together it would have been taken from you, but now... Now I want you to have it. It was made for you, after all."

Fenris smiled, his heart aching and swelling with the love he had for this ridiculous man. He leaned closer to kiss him, unable to stop the smile on his face. He pulled away slowly, hands closing around the fabric of his robes. He grinned and tugged, laughing as the water splashed around Dorian's form as he fell into the tub. The mage spluttered indignantly with a disbelieving noise.

"Was that necessary?" Dorian demanded, glaring without heat.

"You were taking too long," Fenris murmured simply, pulling the fully-clothed mage into his lap, enclosing him in an embrace.

He took the ring from Dorian's tight grasp and slipped it onto his finger, holding up his hand so they could look at it. Dorian laced their fingers together before doing the same with his other hand, holding them against his chest.

"These are my favourite robes, you know." Fenris just laughed, pulling him even closer. "Also, I think we're defeating the purpose of getting you clean. The water is probably filthy now, what a waste of my-- Ah..."

Fenris shut him up with a firm bite to his neck. Dorian dropped his head back automatically, baring more of his throat. Disentangling one of his hands, Fenris parted the white robes slowly, biting and kissing along the column of skin before him. Dorian's breath was catching already, his hips beginning to rock ever so slightly. He pressed a hand against his clothed cock, listening to the sound of his low hum.

"Why do you - oh - always win?"

"Because you make it so easy," Fenris chuckled, scraping his teeth over Dorian' ear. "You got rid of your earrings?"

"Father said they were inappropriate for a family of our standing."

"I could do them again if you wanted."

"Maybe. For now, just-- Kevesh! Fenris--" Dorian cut himself off with a low, drawn out moan as Fenris wrapped his hand around his hardening cock and stroked slowly. "Please. Kaffas, please."

"What do you want, Dorian?" He reached down with his other hand, rolling the mage's balls between his fingers before squeezing them lightly and tugging. Dorian mewled, arching his spine.

"I--"

He was cut off by a firm knock on the door. Fenris growled lowly and Dorian whined, thrusting up into the tight grip around his cock, the lyrium lines over Fenris's palm massaging his firm flesh. The knock came again and a voice began to speak.

"Hey, Dorian?" a deep male voice said through the door. Fenris noticed Dorian tensing against him. "I was thinking, this flirting is all well and good so--"

Dorian swore in a string of Tevene - which would have had his mother dragging him away by his ear - as he clambered out of the bath, careful of Fenris's legs. He stormed towards the door without even tucking himself back into his trousers and all but ripped the door open.

"Bull, now really isn't a good time," Dorian hissed.

Fenris froze at the sight of a Qunari warrior at the door, his lyrium flickering as his hand twitched towards his sword, which was well out of reach. He met the Qunari's one eye unblinkingly, watching the brief confusion and sudden understanding obvious on his face.

"Oh, uh, right, sorry," he said with an awkward wave at Dorian before he left.

Dorian slammed the door shut and locked it, tugging at his robes and trousers until he was naked and climbing back into the bath.

"Who was that?" Fenris asked as he ran his hands over every inch of skin he could reach.

"Iron Bull. Mercenary," Dorian replied simply, focusing on rutting against the elf's thigh and mouthing at his collarbone.

He wanted to ask more about the warrior but decided it could wait and used the knowledge he did have to torment Dorian a bit more.

"Have you fucked him?" Fenris demanded, not allowing his humour to play on his face.

"No."

Fenris grabbed his hair and pulled hard until the mage was bent backwards and gasping, cock twitching at the rough treatment. "Did you want to?"

"Yes," the mage gasped out, unashamed.

"Do you want to now?"

"No! No, just you, fuck, just you."

"Prove it," he ordered, pushing the head in his grip towards his leaking cock.

Dorian went easily, glancing up at him with a twinkle in his eyes and a small smile on his lips. He knew it was a game, good. Everything was easier when they were on the same page. Fenris lifted his hips out of the water and Dorian set to work immediately, too desperate to employ any one of his vast skills. As always, the mage was enthusiastic, taking him all the way down and licking and sucking messily. Fenris didn't lessen his grip on his dark hair as he guided that hot mouth up and down his cock slowly. After a minute or two, he pulled Dorian off him, chuckling slightly at the man's confused whine.

"Turn around and hold the edge of the tub," he commanded lowly, pushing the mage and releasing his hair.

Dorian scrabbled against the ceramic tub to turn around, arching his spine beautifully. Fenris pulled himself up onto his knees, dragging his palms down the mage's back, revelling in the low exhalation.

"Now... I don't want you to hold anything back, Dorian," Fenris purred, holding his hand out for the mage to cast some grease into. "I want everyone to hear you, hear who you belong to. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Dorian whispered, gripping the bath with both hands again, shoulders trembling slightly. "Please, Fen, please, I need you."

He pressed a kiss to a dark shoulder blade as he began to probe and press at the mage's hole. He was still somewhat open from their earlier encounter but Fenris didn't want to hurt him at all, fingering him open. Dorian did as he was told, not clamping his lips against all his little huffs and loud moans, breathing his name.

Without warning, Fenris pushed into him, closing his eyes at the shout of his name. There would be no denying their relationship now, but he found that he didn't want to. He'd had enough of hiding in Tevinter, where he would have been killed for such relations with anyone but Danarius, if they'd known.

He moved quickly, hands holding Dorian's hips still while the mage let loose a near continuous whining moan. Fenris pressed against the stretch of skin behind his balls and grinned when Dorian all but screamed as his prostate was stimulated from inside and out, his orgasm ripping out of him suddenly, leaving him sagging against the tub and panting heavily. Fenris pulled out carefully, finishing himself off by hand, remembering how sore Dorian could get after a prostate orgasm. He groaned as he came, his seed splashing into the water and over Dorian's thighs.

The mage didn't move, still panting like a mabari in an Antivan summer, his usual elegance thrown out of the window. Fenris pulled the plug of the bath, briefly thankful for ancient Elvhen engineering. He climbed out, manoeuvring the mage into a position from which he could lift him and carry him to the large bed. After more than a year on the run with Hawke and Anders, he was thankful for such a beautiful bed, with such a beautiful man.

Dorian was half-asleep as he pulled the covers over him before slipping in beside him. The man wrapped his arms around him sleepily, pressing a kiss to his chest as he moved closer to rest his head on his shoulder, eyes remaining closed the whole time.

"I love you," Dorian muttered.

"And I you," Fenris answered with a smile.

"Fuck you tomorrow," he promised in a tired slur, already drifting off.

Fenris chuckled softly and pulled the mage closer, closing his eyes to sleep too.

********

Fenris was startled awake by soft voices nearby. His instincts kicked in, lyrium sparking as a hand shot out to grab one of the intruders, flipping the position to pin them to the bed. He blinked in surprise at the sight of Anders underneath him, looking terrified.

"Anders?" he asked, releasing the mage.

"Hi," the man said lamely, glancing up at Hawke standing beside the bed.

Fenris huffed in frustration and pushed Anders easily to the floor, turning to Dorian. The Altus was still asleep, arms curling around the sheets now that Fenris was no longer there. He fought a smile, fingers twitching to reach out and smooth his bed head.

"What do you want?" Fenris asked, standing and beginning to move around the room, unashamed of his nakedness. He gathered Dorian's shaving equipment; the mage hated the slight stubble that deigned to grace his chin.

"When were you going to tell us?" Hawke asked as he helped Anders off the floor.

"I wasn't," he said simply. "It didn't matter, especially not after we killed Danarius."

"Why especially after that?" Anders frowned.

"Because he was in the Archon's favour. I could not ensure that they wouldn't send more bounty hunters to take me back to Tevinter, with you as well. Our correspondence had to stop, for everyone's safety."

"But what about Isabela? The two of you were..."

"A momentary distraction. Dorian knew. While apart there was never a need to remain monogamous."

"How come?" Hawke asked curiously.

"Often it would be months before we could see each other even while in Tevinter; business came only so often. It would have been unfair and suspicious to expect Dorian to remain chaste during that time. It is no concern of mine."

"I heard my name," the man himself mumbled, opening an eye sleepily. "Why are your friends here?"

"Because they are rude and have no concept of privacy," Fenris answered simply, lips curling at the amused snort he got in reply.

Fenris said nothing more, ignoring Anders and Hawke as he made up Dorian's shaving cream automatically, stirring in the oils he liked.

"Come back to bed," Dorian grumbled, opening a second eye briefly and yawning.

"It is no doubt long past dawn."

"I don't care."

"You need a shave."

That gave Dorian pause. He was a silent for a moment before he whined and forced himself to sit up. Fenris chuckled triumphantly, bringing the equipment over to set it on the bedside table. Dorian huffed out a low sigh as he fell forward to rest his head heavily on Fenris's stomach. The elf smiled down at him, stroking his hair.

"Make your friends go away before I electrocute them," his mage grumbled.

Hawke whispered to Anders, taking his hand and pulling him out, shutting the door behind them. Finally, they were alone again. Dorian sighed sweetly, pressing a kiss to his stomach.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to fuck you last night," the mage murmured, nuzzling his navel briefly.

Fenris just hummed in reply, leaning down awkwardly to kiss the top of Dorian's head. "We have all the time in the world now."

Dorian smiled up at him in a way that set his heart racing and released butterflies in his stomach. The mage was far too beautiful for his own good.

"Lets get rid of this, shall we?" he asked, stroking his fingers along Dorian's stubbly jawline.

"Please. You always do such a brilliant job."

Fenris picked up the small wooden bowl he'd placed on the table, filled with the cream, and the brush to smear it evenly. He did so, smoothing it down the man's long neck, careful to avoid the areas where hair was permitted. He retrieved the jewel-encrusted straight razor that Dorian so cherished; it was a gift from Alexius. When reaching for it, he noticed the ring on his finger and grinned happily, his heart light. He returned and stood between the mage's legs, shaving his chin carefully.

Dorian allowed his eyes to close, enjoying the sensations of his lover - his partner - shaving his face, a novelty they hadn't shared for a very, very long time. Fenris's firm, calloused fingers turned his face this way and that gently, finishing the job shortly. When the elf began to move away, he wrapped his arms around him, holding his slim body close. He heard Fenris's low huff of laughter above him as he rested his head on strong abs again. The shaving was done; the trimming of his moustache could wait until tomorrow. For now, he wanted to enjoy this before they had to face the world, and their friends. Maker, what Lavellan would say. He chuckled softly at the thought.

"What's so funny?"

"I never imagined we would be able to tell people," Dorian confessed, taking his hand and rubbing his thumb over the ring there. "Never imagined we could be happy. I will return home eventually, but... If I asked, would you come with me?"

"Back to the Imperium? As your slave?"

"Of course not," he grumbled, smacking his side lightly, playfully. "As my partner. My equal. We could be sneaky about it. I'll take my seat in the Magisterium and say 'Oh yes, and this is my husband, Fenris'. I think it would be brilliant."

Fenris was silent for a moment. "Husband...?" he asked quietly, voice barely more than a whisper.

"It happens, you know, down here. Two men. Elves and humans. Would you..."

"Are you trying to ask me to marry you?"

"And a bang up job I'm doing too," Dorian laughed, kissing his bare skin briefly. "But in all seriousness, I would have that ring on your finger mean so much more, if you wished it. No more Qunari spies and Rivaini pirates; just us, unless they wished to join us of course."

"Can you imagine the look on your mother's face?" Fenris asked with a small grin, trying to hide his shock at the proposal.

"It would be brilliant, wouldn't it?" Dorian chuckled, kissing his stomach again. "Think about it?"

"I will," he promised, smoothing out the man's moustache.

"Good. Now, Bull is a terrible gossip so I've no doubt there will be lots of staring and whispering and insults and all manner of brilliant things, so try not to eviscerate anyone."

"It will be difficult," Fenris sighed dramatically, smiling anyway, "but I'll do my best."

"Good. Come, my little porcupine, get dressed in your spiky armour and we'll find something to eat."

Fenris chuckled softly and stepped back to dress. He watched Dorian pick up yesterday's robes and scrunch his nose up at it, draping it across a line above the bath. He lit the fireplace with a simple gesture and dressed in soft leather, one shoulder bare as usual.

"Don't just stand there and watch me, amatus. Perverted staring doesn't suit you."

"But it suits you?" Fenris asked, allowing the mage to take his hand and pull him towards the door.

"Well of course, everything suits me. The others will be dining with the Inquisitor at this time."

"The two of you are close?"

"Oh, she's brilliant. She indulges me with stories of her clan and Elvhen tales and allows me to flirt with Cullen. The pair of us can make the man turn quite a shade of red, it's magnificent."

Fenris rolled his eyes and said no more, half listening to Dorian's chatter. He was focusing more on the whispering and pointing going on around them. Dorian seemed oblivious, or used to it. He frowned slightly; how ostracised had Dorian been by these people that he turned to a Qunari for company? He stepped closer to the man beside him, ready to glare or punch anyone that so much as looked at him wrong. Dorian noticed, smiling but his eyes were sad.

"Leave it, amatus. I am simply the evil 'Vint to them; it has always been this way."

His frown turned to a scowl but he said nothing in argument or agreement, letting it rest between them. Dorian took them into the hall from yesterday and through a few corridors before they entered a room with a long dining table, full of people. The woman, Cassandra, was there, as was Cullen, the Qunari, Hawke and Anders, as well as some others that he hadn't met before. The mage was in deep conversation with Inquisitor Lavellan. The first sign that someone had noticed their arrival was a catcall.

"Venhedis, Sera, was that necessary?" Dorian chuckled, pulling Fenris to two chairs that had apparently been left free for them.

Sera, a young blonde elf, cackled with laughter. "When you kept us up all night with your screaming, damn right it was."

"'All night'! Hardly. Where is our fine darling Vivienne this morning?" Dorian asked, steering the conversation away from them easily.

"She refused to be in the same room as Anders," Lavellan answered morosely.

"Because of the whole Chantry thing? I have to say, it was bloody marvellous what you did."

"Don't encourage him, Dorian," Fenris scolded.

"Is it true you're possessed by a Fade spirit?" Lavellan asked Anders instead, ignoring them.

A bald elf sat forward in interest at this, turning his attention from his porridge to their conversation. Fenris watched him curiously, wondering about his intentions and curiosity.

"Justice," Anders confirmed with a nod. "He was my friend when I was with the Wardens."

A broad bearded man's head shot up at this. "You're a Warden?"

"I, uh, ran away from the Order, but the Taint never goes away," the mage admitted reluctantly.

"Blackwall's a Warden too, perhaps you know each other?" Lavellan suggested, face bright.

Anders frowned thoughtfully. "I can't say I do. My time with them was brief; after Commander Surana was called to Weisshaupt and that damn Templar started stalking me, I left. I'm good at that." Hawke chuckled softly, tucking Anders's hair behind his ear. "So was she though, apparently. Nathaniel Howe is the Warden-Commander of Ferelden now."

"Wasn't Leliana a companion of the Hero of Ferelden?" Dorian asked curiously.

"Leliana?" Anders asked, perking up with a grin. "She's here? She is well?"

"You know her?" Lavellan asked.

Anders snorted in amusement. "When she turned up at Vigil's Keep, none of us saw Surana for a week at least. Heard her definitely, mind."

"Holy shit, really?" Sera asked, eyes wide.

"You didn't know? Oh... Now I'm going to get stabbed in my sleep," the mage sighed, dropping his head into his hands.

"Our dearest Nightingale surely wouldn't," Dorian said.

"She would," everyone else said in unison.

Anders groaned, shoulders sinking.

"Fenris," Cassandra said, rolling her eyes at the conversation, "would you be willing to train with our troops again today?"

"Don't forget Alexius and Felix are expecting us for lunch," Dorian reminded, sipping his tea.

"I doubt Alexius has managed to find Felix a decent trainer in the past decade?"

"Oh, Maker, no, he's terrible again. You'll need to sort him out."

"Dorian, there is no way you of all people can call anyone terrible at melee combat."

"Amatus, there is nothing I am not good at, how dare you imply such a thing?"

"What about the time you sprained your wrist from lifting a blunt practice sword?" Fenris challenged with a smirk.

Dorian hesitated. "Okay, fine, but--"

"Or the time you set fire to your robes at the Archon's Satinalia ball?"

"Yes--"

"Or even when you tripped and fell into Maevaris's lap? Sober, might I add."

Dorian huffed in a sulk. "You're impossible and I hate you."

"Duly noted," Fenris said with a small smile.

When he looked up again, everyone was staring at them. He ducked his head in an effort not to blush. He felt Dorian's hand land on his thigh, squeezing briefly.

"I'm going to harass Felix into saving me from these ghastly Southerners - offence entirely intended, my darlings - so I'll see you later," Dorian said with a grin. The grin faltered slightly as he hesitated before the mage leaned forward to kiss him softly, tracing some of the lyrium clusters on his wrist. Dorian stood and left quickly after that.

Fenris blushed fully this time, unable to stop it. They'd never been able to have anything remotely related to public displays of affection, and now? Now they could, and Fenris didn't know how he felt about that. He focused on the empty plate in front of him, feeling uncomfortable in this room of strangers - bar Garrett and Anders - without Dorian at his side.

"Are you ready now, Fenris?" Cassandra asked, standing from the table.

He nodded and got up quickly, following her out of the room.

"Thank you," he said quietly to her when they were out of earshot.

She waved his thanks away and took him to the troops that required training.

******

Training with the recruits was hardly a trying way to pass the time, but it was a way to pass the time nonetheless. He knocked the pathetic young rogue to his arse for a fourth time. This young man had joined up - for glory and wealth, no doubt - from the Hinterlands farms. He had no fighting experience whatsoever, so Fenris had volunteered to get him up to scratch so the boy could train with the other recruits.

"Give the boy a chance, Fenris," a voice laughed, drawing his attention.

Fenris helped the soldier, Woods, to his feet again before he turned to see who'd called out to him. The elf rolled his eyes at the sight of Felix and Dorian sat on the fence watching them.

"Nonsense, Felix, he needs to learn," Dorian chuckled, nudging the other man.

"Come on then," Fenris called to his mage, twirling the twin daggers he had in hand.

Although trained primarily as a warrior, Fenris had been forced to become acquainted with a wide variety of weapons, daggers included. These weren't as well-weighted as the ones at the Alexius manor, or even in Danarius's villa, but he wasn't using them to cut down shades and demons summoned by his master, so it didn't matter as much.

"Me?" Dorian squawked, eyes going wide.

"Come over here then if you think you're any better. Or are you conceding the point?" he cooed teasingly at his lover.

The mage puffed up in defensive pride and hopped down, strolling over leisurely with his usual swagger.

"If you wanting to rough me up, amatus, you needed only to ask. You know how..." Dorian looked him up and down, smirking, "accommodating I can be."

Fenris didn't bother stopping his smirk from curling his lips up as he raised an eyebrow in challenge, holding his daggers out to Dorian before getting more from the weapons rack. These were worse, but he doubted Dorian would be able to tell the difference. He twirled them with a flick of his wrists.

Dorian lashed out, dagger slashing through the air. Fenris blocked easily with the flat of a blade, knocking it aside but not out of hand. He grabbed Dorian and span him round to pull the mage's back with his chest. He heard the man's breath hitch, saw the eyes flutter shut and head fall back.

"Fenris..." he whispered, barely more than a breath.

Chuckling softly, he released him, but not without pressing his hips forward and squeezing his neck lightly. Dorian blinked dumbly, staring at him. Fenris laughed when the mage grabbed his wrist and pulled him away with purposeful strides. He glanced over his shoulder to smile apologetically at Woods and Felix, and Alexius as the Magister joined his son. Soon, they were in Dorian's room again and Fenris was being pushed up against the door.

"What you do to me..." the mage murmured, lips hovering over the lyrium lines on his throat.

"Tell me."

"You're so strong and powerful and it gets me so hot to watch you, with all your limitless grace and perfect body," Dorian whispered, skimming his mouth up slowly. "When you train, you get a beautiful pink flush that reminds me of what you look like after you've been fucked so hard you can't speak. When you turn all of that on me? Oh, Maker, Fenris..."

Fenris couldn't deny that hearing the words from his mage, feeling them drip over his skin as kisses were pressed against lyrium and flesh, was a turn-on. Dorian alone was enough of a turn-on.

"Are you going to make good on your promise, Dorian?" Fenris purred, legs parting so he could pull the mage closer. "Are you going to fuck me?"

"Fuck you good."

The awkward phrasing reminded Fenris of the first time he'd had to speak the common tongue, and it was likely that Dorian hadn't been speaking it exclusively for long. To make it easier on both of them, to add an extra layer of familiarity and eroticism, Fenris lapsed back into their mother tongue.

"I need you, Dorian," he groaned in Tevene, pulling the mage closer still.

Dorian's breath caught in his throat as he lifted the elf, strangely light even with his armour on and carried him to the bed.

"Festis bei umo canavarum, amatus," Dorian whispered against his lips.

Fenris felt the bed underneath him and allowed Dorian to undress him quickly, long fingers darting to every buckle and clasp, the armour clattering to the floor as the mage pushed it aside without a thought to damaging it. Fenris stretched out languidly, arching slightly to tease, underneath his lover. Dorian whined softly and scrambled to get his robes off too. Never let it be said that Fenris was above underhanded manoeuvres: he curled his fingers into his own hair and started to stroke his cock slowly.

Dorian grabbed his wrists and pulled until he could pin him to the bed, the mage's lips parted in a pant and eyes dark with hunger. Fenris leaned up to try and catch the mage's lips with his own, gasping in surprise when Dorian bit down hard on the side of his neck and pushed a knee between his thighs. Moaning, the elf started rocking his hips to rub his cock against Dorian's leg, biting his bottom lip.

"You're so beautiful," Dorian whispered against his throat, soothing the bruising bite with a swipe of his tongue and a kiss. "Amatus..."

"Please, Dorian... There's been no one like this, not since you," he breathed, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling of Dorian's fingers circling his hole lightly.

"Do you ache for me, Fenris?" The Tevene slipped off his tongue softly, the words curling around Fenris's entire body.

Dorian's finger pressed into his entrance, suddenly but gently, making him gasp in surprise. There was a brief moment of panic welling up in his chest as he thought of the last person to truly do this to him, but Danarius's touch was never gentle or soft, his preparation nothing more than perfunctory because he hated getting blood on his cock.

"Fenris," Dorian said firmly, a hand cupping his cheek. "Do you need me to stop? We can do something else if you want."

Fenris found himself smiling as he shook his head. "Just... keep talking."

The mage nodded and pushed his finger back in slowly, murmuring nonsense and whispers against his throat, his cheek, the corner of his eye, everywhere he could reach that wasn't tainted by memories that they refused to acknowledge except for when necessary.

"You're so good, amatus, so beautiful. I'm so proud of you for everything, proud that I can call myself yours. Because I'm all yours, only yours. No matter who else there is, my heart belongs to you, all of me belongs to you," Dorian whispered, the words spilling out with such love in them that it hurt to hear. "I missed you so much, missed everything we had, everything we have. Thought I'd lost you, but you came back to me, and now I'm yours again, Fenris..."

Fenris took a shaky breath and squeezed his eyes shut tight against the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. These were all things he knew - thought he knew - but it was such an exquisite agony that came with the realisation that they were true, would always be true. Dorian had seen him at his worst, had almost literally scraped him up off the floor and put him back together after he'd suffered abuse at the hands of his master, but he was still here, still loved him.

"You okay?" Dorian asked softly, kissing his face.

"No," Fenris admitted with a laughing sob, wrapping his arms around Dorian's chest. "I'm ready, amatus, take me."

Thankfully, Dorian did as he was asked, removing his fingers to oil his length and position himself. Fenris took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as Dorian pressed in. There was no pain other than a slight twinge, no tearing, no agony, just the bliss of finally being with his amatus again.

Dorian moved slowly, gathering Fenris up in his arms so he could sit up with the elf in his lap. Fenris felt pleasure and love spark through him at the movement; even now Dorian was careful to make sure he didn't feel trapped or vulnerable. Fenris lifted himself with his thighs before sinking down again with a shuddering gasp against Dorian's mouth. The mage held him close, running his hands over skin and following the lyrium lines down to Fenris's cock, wrapping his warm hand around it. Fenris moaned softly, shivering as he moved faster, rolling his hips to get every scrap of pleasure that Dorian offered.

Fenris's hands came up to grasp the back of Dorian's neck, fingers curling into the soft hair there, pulling him close to rest their foreheads together. He was getting desperate, hips jerking into the mage's grasp, calloused from so many years wielding a stave. Dorian was getting close too; it was obvious in his sporadic tensing of his shoulders and gasping breaths, and Fenris wanted nothing more than to feel his body flooded with Dorian's seed.

"Please, Dorian," he muttered, forcing his eyes open to look at the fan of the mage's dark eyelashes over his cheeks.

"So close, amatus," Dorian said softly, speeding up the movements of his hand and hips.

Fenris gasped in surprised pleasure, letting his head fall back and eyes flutter shut. Dorian buried his face in the elf's neck, not kissing or biting or licking, just staying still and breathing him in. One last thrust was all it took to push Fenris over the edge with a moan, his come hitting Dorian's stomach. The strain in Dorian's shoulders disappeared suddenly as the man sighed with a shudder that only came with orgasm.

They came down from their high slowly, panting and touching, until Dorian laid Fenris out on the bed and lay beside him, curling up against him. The mage set his head on his shoulder and sighed happily, stroking the pattern of the lyrium down his chest and stomach. Fenris wiped away the lingering tears on his cheeks and wrapped his arms around the mage, pulling him closer.

"I love you," he said again.

"I love you too, amatus," Dorian hummed happily in return.

Lying together in silence, Fenris allowed his mind to go blank and his guard fall. He was safe. Dorian was safe. He let himself doze without sleeping, just enjoying the warmth against him for a while.

"Dorian?" he said eventually. The man just made a soft noise in return and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. "What we talked about this morning... Marriage...?" The mage just looked up at him with a patient smile. "I would... What would we need to do?"

"I don't know, in truth. I know little of marriage customs outside of Tevinter. It would be brilliant if we could get Leliana to do it for us, wouldn't it? She was an affirmed Chantry Sister and is currently the Inquisition Spymaster."

"The woman Anders spoke of?" Fenris asked with a frown.

"The very same. Is it something you would like? Not Leliana, necessarily, but marriage?"

"I don't know. I think so. I've never thought about it. Even before I met you, I was too important a slave to be allowed to marry. But now? I think so," he admitted in a whisper, little more than a breath.

Dorian smiled his beautiful, bedazzling smile and leaned up to kiss him softly. "I'll look into it then. We should emerge from our room, lest Varric pick the lock in search of inspiration for his newest novel."

There was a deep mutter at the door and a responding grumble that Fenris would recognise anywhere as Varric's. He sat up with a chuckle and threw a small, pointless pillow hard at the door. There was a loud undignified squawk of surprise too.

"Be like that then!" Varric called through the door as he and his entourage moved off.

"Varric must have roped Bull into helping him spy on us," Dorian chuckled, supporting himself on his elbow to kiss at Fenris's ribs.

Fenris tensed at the mention of the Qunari but let himself be pulled back into bed and calmed before the prejudice could take over. And the hint of jealousy, he had to admit; the warrior had nearly slept with Dorian.

"Hush, amatus," Dorian soothed with kisses. "Bull's a good man, trust me. He was probably only their translator."

"I don't like him," Fenris huffed.

"You don't have to, but I do. Oh, hush, not like that. Well, yes like that, but I have you now so he hardly matters," Dorian teased.

Fenris grumbled but pressed a kiss to the mage's lips and stood to gather their clothes. Dorian laughed softly and dressed, running a comb through his hair in front of the mirror. Fenris waited for him by the door, watching him with a small smile. No matter who had been Dorian's potential bedmate before, Dorian wanted only him, and that was more reassuring that he would have thought.

"Come, my handsome elf, let's go to harass some more poor recruits, yes?" Dorian grinned, taking his hand.

Fenris smiled and allowed the mage to pull him from the room but frowned at the sound of shouts going up around the ramparts. He pushed past Dorian, wishing desperately for the sword he'd left in the armoury while he was training with Woods. They stepped out into the courtyard to see Lavellan rushing down the stairs, doing up buttons of her shirt as she did so, Cullen not far behind her with a telling blush over his cheeks.

"Darling, what's going on?" Dorian asked her as they fell into step.

"Unscheduled arrival," she grumbled. "From Tevinter."

Dorian blinked in surprise and nodded, a small frown appearing on his brow. Fenris squeezed his hand and pulled him closer, flashing him a tight smile. Dorian returned it half-heartedly. Fenris shared in his concern: what would a Tevinter party be doing on the gate of Skyhold?

"Hey, Vint," a deep voice called from his left.

Fenris turned to the sound of it, as did Dorian. The Qunari was striding up and holding out Fenris's sword to him.

"Thought you might like this," Bull said.

Nodding his thanks awkwardly, he put it on his back where he could easily grab it if necessary.

"You know, Bull," Dorian said with a soft chuckle underneath the words, "if this really is a Tevinter party, you're going to have to be more specific."

"Yeah, but you're my Vint," Bull replied, his tone just too flirtatious for Fenris's liking.

Before he'd even intentionally reacted, Fenris found himself growling deep in his throat with his shoulders tensed as he glared at the hulking beast with as much ferocity as he could muster.

"Whoa, I'm just kidding." The Qunari held his hands up defensively. "I didn't... Sorry, elf."

"That's just rude, amatus," Dorian murmured, but squeezed his hand and pulled him closer. "You know that I'm yours. Let's see if any of our countrymen need a good beating, yes?"

Fenris couldn't help his small smile at the look on Dorian's face and the jealous anger fizzled out of his system with the soft kiss that the mage pressed to his lips.

"Dorian," Lavellan said, her voice controlled and lips pressing tightly together.

Dorian turned to her, mouth open to crack a joke but he froze when he saw who was leading the group. Fenris's eyes narrowed at the sight of Magister Halward Pavus. The disdain he already had for the man, now warped into hatred because of what he'd tried to do to Dorian, flared as he pushed Dorian behind him. He noted that Bull fell easily to stand beside Dorian, hand resting on the pommel of his battleaxe threateningly.

"Is this daddy?" a small blonde elf asked as she dropped down from the brickwork to flank Dorian's other side, drawing her bow easily. He recognised her as Sera, the elf from breakfast.

"Yes," Dorian answered tersely.

Lavellan stepped forward with a false smile plastered on her face as the Magister got down from his horse and handed the reins to a young slave. This only added another layer to Fenris's hatred.

"Magister Pavus," Lavellan greeted, walking towards him with a bow. "It is wonderful to see you again. I trust you are well?"

The whole of the Inquisitor's body and voice said that it definitely wasn't lovely to see him again and she wished that he wasn't in good health. Fenris found himself agreeing wholeheartedly.

"Avanna, Inquisitor. I am, thank you. My apologies for not sending word ahead; I had business in the area and thought I might request an audience with you," the Magister said with a strained smile.

Fenris sincerely doubted that there was any business to be had 'in the area' and even if it was true, it was most likely slaving. Halward's eyes scanned the crowd quickly, landing on Dorian and the familiar elf stood in front of him. The Magister's lips pursed as he clearly recognised him. Fenris fought back a smirk.

"Of course. Why don't I ask someone to show you to a room?" Lavellan asked, gesturing for Halward to start for the main hall.

"If it's not any trouble, I would like to speak with my son before we begin any business," Magister Pavus said, stirring a variety of whispers in the crowd. What other noble Tevinter mage was in the keep other than Dorian?

"I'll have to leave that with him," she said, clearly fighting down a sharp tone in her voice.

Pavus nodded and looked to Dorian, blanking Fenris completely.

"Dorian?" Bull asked the mage, wanting to know whether they would be necessary.

"I... I should speak with him, shouldn't I?"

"The choice is yours," the Qunari said reassuringly, adding, "But if he tries anything, we'll be right there."

Dorian was quiet for a few more moments before Fenris felt warm fingers coming to clutch at his. He turned to look at the mage and felt his heart break at the vulnerable, worried, scared expression that he found there. Dorian didn't meet his eyes.

"Fen, will you...?"

"As if I'm leaving you with him. You must think very poorly of me if you had to ask," Fenris answered, making sure to finish with a smile.

Dorian's shoulders sagged with relief as he nodded and smiled in return, stepping forward to be beside him. He nodded to Lavellan, who narrowed her eyes slightly but didn't argue.

"Would you be more comfortable in private?" she asked politely.

"I think we will walk the grounds, if it's permitted," the slimy Magister said charmingly.

"Of course. We'll keep out of your way."

The Inquisition trickled away slowly as the Tevinter horses were stabled and slaves escorted elsewhere. Lavellan, Bull and Sera were the last to disappear, reluctant even as they were dragged away by Varric. Magister Pavus glanced pointedly at Fenris.

"Fenris stays with us," Dorian said firmly, more confidently than Fenris imagined he was feeling.

"Very well," Halward sighed as he began walking. Noticing their joined hands, he said, "If I'd known you'd take up with Danarius's prize whore, I would have bought you one of your own."

Fenris scowled and tugged on Dorian's hand when it was clear the mage was about to step forward to argue. He had endured worse insults, and more at a Magister's hands. Pavus's cutting words were barely more than a paper-cut.

"What do you want?" Dorian asked eventually, lapsing into Tevene, following the man who didn't turn to look at them.

"I want you to come home, you know that."

"Yes, I feel very welcome already. Will Mother be here to join in with your abuse?"

"Your mother had to stay in Minrathous."

"I'm sure she did," Dorian grumbled. "You know I won't come back. Especially not now."

"If you want to keep the whore, that's fine. That was always fine."

"Fenris is not a whore!" Dorian yelled suddenly, whole body tense with mana sparking off him.

"Dorian--" Fenris sighed, trying to calm him down.

"He's just a slave, Dorian," Halward scoffed.

"He's not a slave. Alexius and I made sure of that," Dorian spat, venom dripping from his words.

"Danarius--"

"Danarius is dead!" Dorian shouted, laughing mirthlessly. "He's been dead for quite some time. Fenris is a free man, and if you want to see him enslaved again, you'll have to kill me."

Halward sighed and rubbed his forehead. The look on his face when he stopped to turn to Dorian was sad, angry, disapproving, contemptuous, and most of it was aimed at Fenris. A subtle gesture of the Magister's hand had him focusing on their surroundings a bit more.

"Dorian, I didn't want this. I didn't come to argue, I--"

"I'm still not what you wanted, Father. You seem to keep forgetting that."

Fenris tackled Dorian to the ground automatically at the sight of an arrow flying towards them, his training as a bodyguard kicking in. Dorian yelped and grabbed onto his armour just as the arrow struck the ground. There was shouting as the archer was grabbed and even Magister Pavus was clapped in irons after a Templar's silence was cast on him. It pulled on his brands painfully, making him wince and rest his head on Dorian's shoulder.

"You do like riding me," Dorian joked instinctively.

Fenris huffed a soft laugh and rolled off him. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"That was an arrow for you, not me; are you okay?"

"I'm fine."

"Dorian!" Lavellan shouted, rushing over to them. "Are you okay? Are you hurt, what--"

"He's okay," Cullen said, taking hold of her arm to stop her fussing. "I had people watching, but we need your statement. Magister Pavus has been arrested on suspicion of attempted murder."

Dorian nodded and sat up, taking a moment before he stood and helped Fenris up. Fenris felt a brief wash of healing magic from him to ease the ache in his lyrium.

"You are not a whore and you are not a slave," Dorian insisted, wrapping his arms around him.

Fenris found himself smiling as he pressed closer.

"Is everything alright?" Hawke's voice said just behind him.

The elf turned to look at his friend briefly and nodded before turning back to his mage and smoothing down his moustache.

"All is well," he said softly as he watched the mage. "If you'll excuse us, though."

Fenris took hold of Dorian's hand and pulled him back to their room, leaving the others blinking in confusion behind them.

"Fenris, I'm--"

"Don't say fine, because I won't believe you. You wouldn't have reacted to his needling if you were 'fine'."

Dorian's eyes dropped to the rug covering the stone floor and said nothing. Fenris took a minute to look over the mage. The wetness of his eyes and biting of his lips told him that Dorian was definitely not okay, no matter what he tried to insist. Fenris stepped forward in silence and drew the man into his arms. Dorian's first sob escaped at this as he clutched at the back of Fenris's armour, pressing his face into the elf's neck. Fenris simply held him and allowed him to cry.

"I miss home," Dorian eventually admitted between sobs. "Even though it's..."

"Home is whatever, wherever, whoever you make it, amatus. It can be wherever you lay your staff, it can be Skyhold, it could be where the Inquisitor is, it-"

"You. My home is with you. No matter what Father says, there is love here, between two equals. I love you," Dorian whispered, pulling back to wipe his face.

"As I love you. You'll have to talk to the Inquisitor about arranging our wedding, yes?"

Dorian smiled through his remaining tears and nodded. "I would look beautiful in a dress."

Fenris chuckled softly, the sound barely above a breath and soothed the puffiness of the mage's eyes with his thumbs.

"You look beautiful in anything. Come, wash your face and let us enjoy the last of the sunshine."

"If it can be called 'sun'," Dorian scoffed but moved to wash his face.

"We are in Ferelden, I doubt they've ever seen such a thing."

Dorian shrugged and smiled gratefully, leaning down to kiss Fenris softly.

"What did I do without you, amatus?"

"Had to learn how to tie your own bootlaces, I imagine."

Dorian just rolled his eyes and allowed himself to be pulled from the room.

After a little while of wandering the hold - while ignoring stares and whispers around them - Fenris and Dorian found a spot on the ramparts from which to watch the sunset. Fenris leaned against the stone wall, resting his forearms on the slab. Dorian came behind him, pulling him into his arms.

Dorian began to hum softly, a Tevinter nursery rhyme. A mother's soothing coo to a crying child. A croon to a lover held in your arms. Fenris couldn't stop his eyes closing. He didn't remember a time when he had ever been this happy. It was more than likely, almost assured, that he had never been this happy or anywhere near it.

He remembered a time when he had been in the service of Alexius as a spy. It was the first time Fenris and Dorian had been allowed to stay together for any significant amount of time. Both before and after that, it was only as long as it took to change an outfit or pour a glass of wine, or whatever imaginary reason they could come up with. They had spent the night together. It was slow and loving and Fenris had convinced himself it was all a dream, and he was really in Danarius's bed after a bout of assault. With Dorian it was different; he was considerate and gentle and always waited for Fenris to make the first move. And then he'd woken up, still wrapped around Dorian, the mage slumbered peacefully on his chest, and it was real.

"I was told the two of you had sneaked away up here," Hawke's deep rumble came from the tower door along the rampart.

Anders was absent from his side, which was strange but not too worrying. Hawke had a strange glint in his eye as he glanced between the two of them. Fenris began to move away from his mage but stopped before settling again: this was their moment, Hawke was intruding, although the intrusion wasn't frustrating.

"How come you never told us you had a lover back home?" Hawke asked him with a grin, although there was hurt underneath the humour. Fenris had proclaimed the man to be his best friend, but he hadn't told him about this.

"It was dangerous. It was unlikely that I would ever see Dorian again," Fenris said softly, glancing at the man.

"But you never forgot about him, never moved on really."

"Could you move on from Anders?" Fenris challenged with a raised eyebrow.

"No," Hawke admitted. "That's a pretty ring." He came to stand beside them as Dorian remained quiet, his cheek on top of Fenris's head.

"Dorian had it commissioned for me many years ago. I could never wear it; slaves are not allowed such trivial things."

"I wore it for a long time, like a widower in mourning," Dorian chuckled softly, clasping Fenris's hands in his.

When Fenris looked up again, Hawke was smiling as he watched them. "You seem happy."

"I am."

"Good. It's a good look on you," Hawke teased with a hint of seriousness. "I best get back to Anders before he starts trying to heal everyone again."

Fenris chuckled softly and nodded, watching Hawke leave them. Dorian nuzzled into the crook of his neck with a low hum.

"Does he approve of me?" Dorian grinned against his skin.

"It seems so. Even if he didn't, I love you."

"I'll never get tired of hearing you say that."

"Then it's a good job that we have forever," Fenris whispered.

"Forever sounds good to me, amatus."

**Author's Note:**

> There will probably be more of this, so subscribe if you liked it :)
> 
> If you're going to leave a hateful comment, do us all a favour and don't :)


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